love's a stranger

by
in the mysterious feminine romanticism
stimulated by that escapade mechanism
with that explanatory instrument brought
charmingly by a deep eloquent allusion, —
the visual writing system deciphers gently
an image by assembling it to several frames
for creating that distinct connection, firmly
felt amid the feelings of those sensations
so well personified by intense emotions,
which, if it could be put in a tangible practice
would be useless, spoiling any signification
for love's a stranger of our chic psychology

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as sweet as a sin...

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I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, when you hold the fasting of me demurely in your soul and mind loving me till God and looking humbled for the light to find a smell of the saint of myrrh. I'm as sweet as a sin in your eyes, then, when you're waiting for dispensation, that dispensation for love without knowing if it'll come this sweetness of godly thought with the smell of books and innocence. I'm as sweet as a sin, and you… you gotta be a chocolate Jesus looking in the sinner inside you knowing that it is not a miraculous icon or healing source that could heals you of me... me............................as sweet as a sin…
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walk right in

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…another poem, — the same you… still, (with my dreams looking for you…) ‧ a new day… trying to corrupt you, it uses an inverted message, — (i'm not missing you) ‧ with you loving me, time conjugates me at stars' snazzy joy, validating my alibis ‧ in all your longings, cabochons' agonies affects drastically, my chronic absence ‧ ingenuous moments walk right in your way, translating bizarrely, all you should perceive
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are you sure you want ⟮…‽⟯

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are you sure you want to get to know me as i'm identified in a hidden life, messed up in multiplied hopes with sweet dreams that fill my eyes with you… where you'd love to be …‽ are you sure you want to go far and deep, directly to experience my rules, sown with the magnitude of every boost, illogically absorbed by your instincts in the subconscious of my scent …‽ are you sure you want to sip a coffee, conceived and seduced by the witchery of my dialect, embroidered with subtle inscriptions, and devoured by the pupils of the sun while you're perched on my pedestal …‽ are you sure you want to be addicted to the thunderstorm of my fantasies, spaced in the fruit bowl with the passionate loves' bacteria, cos i'm not, not as sure as you think …‽ are you sure you want to get to know why the shoe shape relates to happiness, why soothing zone depends on you, why the grammar of time is oxygen, why the future is — today …‽  
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dream's scenario

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Salut, — (facilitates dialogs) ▫ Water, — (life's elixir) ▫ Sugar, — (silhouette issue) ▫ Food, — (anxiety factor) ▫ Hobbies, — (therapy experience) ▫ Work, — (didactic effort) ▫ Admirers, — (transitory phase) ▫ Family, — (moralistic interaction) ▫ Love, — (perfection's test) ▫ Hope, — (multiplicated missions) ▫ Writing, — (suggestive interplay) ▫ Today, — (dream's scenario) ▫ Mood, — (unique identity) ▫ Myself, — (free mind) ▫ Story, — (three words) ▫ Coco Deep Blue
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check it out

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rough noises in my dreams, stirs restlessness in your soul; i check on you… you're fine 𓇼𓇼𓇼 (check it out), each day's moment, seems to be like a comic illustration, personalized through thoughts; thoughts attached to at least a mesmerizing song, exactly as the love's mood accepts its own ego; own ego has evil one too, who wants to be amused without justifying itself to no one, but on contrary; contrary to one, will be another, who's fully exposed and terrified by the fire of stress in a way amnesic; (so check it out), each day's moment so seems to be; (a comic illustration, personalized through thoughts);
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a little bit

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stop; don’t try to divine some answers anymore, generated into a day... (of whatever's tomorrow) if the thoughts slipped out of the brain box, but got treated as if they weren't well-packed ▫ murmured, out of the blue, the wind's whisper, trying to temper me, melodic… (just a little bit) with the drastic formula of a sensitive topic about the one who has a chiaroscuro intellect ▫ intermediary, music flows, inviting rain to laugh (without modesty), in my boundlessness, which owns numerical superiority in any adventure of the truth, while it dances with else's delusions...
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salut, — allez, bisous

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⟮good morning, my love⟯, — means my lights' charming effect framed in a smiley kiss ▫▫▫ ⟮the midday greeting⟯, — means rays influx from suns' eyes flaunting lunch meeting ▫▫▫ ⟮the evening's hello⟯, — means bliss, means contentment with treat, music, film ▫▫▫ ⟮nighttime yawns with joy⟯, — the moon and starry sky stalk cheerful soothing time ▫▫▫ each greet browses me while I think and look for fun, flirting with life's plans ▫▫▫ ⟮that's saying⟯ ▫▫▫ salut, allez, bisous, — it's facile to relate to ⟮while we socialize⟯
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every kind of people

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Have you heard the news? It rains! It rains with curses toward the sky, It rains with war toward the angels. It rains with reason, and no reason, scary, and toxic, and verbal abuse. Have you heard the news? It's fury! Fury, and old and new and blended with undefined labyrinthine rigors. And motivated, and not motivated. Fury of some toward of other ones. Have you heard the news? It's love! Love that dies multiple times a day. Love attired in deep hate and agony. Love that's desperate and famished in women's, men and children eyes. Have you heard the news? I did. I do. I watch perplexed at any TV channels. I see an angry one yelling to others, while deities' rays light up in darkness with aim to shield a realm from monsters. Have you heard the news? It's about people... every kind of people.
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across the borders

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when longing transfers my needs others new longs lie down again cos you inked on my smile's skin everything you adore about me across the borders in elixir's truth you're in my mind even if i think that you have vanished a little bit wrapped into a shushed juncture but what to see, you're grazing me with lust sipping my drunken dream dancing freestyle in a desire's room you[kissing me] me[touching you]
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